Zombie Files: Exiled at Sea

The Hand or the Drink?

     

 

    Saltwater invaded Gerard's nostrils as he awoke to the laughter of his captors.  It seemed the guards had chosen to wake him less than gently that morning; the day of his trial.  His sentence would be decided upon by a tribunal consisting of three different ships' captains.  Unfortunately, the only vote that actually mattered was decided by Admiral Moore, the self-appointed captain of the massive cruise liner named The Hyperion and the Savior of The Fleet.  Once the U.S. was overwhelmed with feeders, Moore's group had no choice but to look to the sea in hopes of finding an uninhabited island to hold out on.  His savior moniker was earned by leading an exodus of ragtag ships off the coast of Florida nearly five years ago in search of such a place.  Some say he had killed as many humans as he had feeders.  These were stories that Gerard had heard growing up as a child that seemed heroic if not so apocryphal.    

    Moore was not a forgiving man however, and Gerard had accidentally killed a captain's son in the galley two days prior.  Working late, Gerard was in the kitchen when a drunken stranger had approached and insulted him for working such a lowly job.  Gerard had quipped back, “Not everyone can be born a captain's son.”  The man's face had gone blood red with that jibe and he waited til Gerard finished his shift to resume the hostilities.  However, it wouldn't have ended the way it did had the man not pulled a knife on him.  Gerard would have been hanged and thrown over the bow of the ship immediately for his crime had he not been only 15 years old.

    “Get yer ass outta that cot,” the larger guard snickered.  “Your fate has finally been decided, boy.”  He let the last word hang as if even youth was an insult to him.  Gerard slowly came to his feet but let out a sigh.  If this were to be his last day on Earth, he wasn't about to give these brutes the satisfaction of knowing that he was deeply afraid of dying.

    “Let's get this over with then,” he calmly told the guard.  His feigned apathy seemed to infuriate the man further as he gave Gerard a sucker punch to the gut and began dragging him by his shoulder out of the cell.  The guard hurriedly pushed him down the long corridor that led up to the deck from the lower levels.  It seemed everyone had come out to hear his sentence read as the deck was filled with riotous applause.  Were they clapping for me... or my head? Gerard wondered.  By this point, he could see Moore sitting at a table near the stern of the ship.  Moore was mere feet away from him now.  Everyone in the crowd grew silent in anticipation of what he might say.

   

 “Blood for blood has been our way for some time now,” Admiral Moore began addressing the crowd.  “You kill a man and you pay for that crime with your life.  To survive a world with feeders and raiders we've had to sacrifice many of our morals and principals to get by.  However, there must come a time when we can regain a semblance of our lost humanity and rediscover our compassion.  The perpetrator of this crime is but a boy, and deserves a punishment that fits accordingly.”

    He finally looked directly at Gerard for the first time and continued on.  “Son, I actually knew your father.  He was a good man from what I recall.  If he were just a little bit more co-operative, he might still be alive today.”  The last part made Gerard want to rip Moore's throat out.  “I know that you'll be a good man someday too.  Perhaps, a better one.  That is why this Tribunal has decided to present you with a choice.  Gerard, please choose wisely.  Will it be the hand or the drink?”

    Gerard had heard of this punishment before.  The so-called choice boiled down to forced amputation or forced exile.  Either option seemed rather horrible to him.  The nearest island was days away so exile meant probable death.  And not having a hand was as good as being dead at sea where infection ran rampant and medicine was hard to come by.  He pondered for a moment longer, and then finally chose. 

    “Admiral Moore, I believe my fate lies with the fishes,” Gerard defiantly told the man.

    “So be it.  If you do manage to make it to an island, I'd be careful with that sharp tongue of yours, boy.  The natives are likely to cut it off and eat it for you.  Guards, toss this piece of murdering scum overboard,”  The last line was met by thunderous acclaim from the crowd.  Within moments, Gerard was hurtling through the air with his hands still clasped by a pair of rusty handcuffs.  He hit the water with a resounding splash and watched as The Hyperion and the rest of the fleet slowly sailed away.

Special Guest Writer- Alex